Prisoner
by DwaejiTokki
Summary: ON HIATUS! AU. When their tribe is invaded, Katara is taken prisoner due to her special ability in exchange for the safety of her family. They take her to the prince and princess, who decide to bring her to their father. Just as she is to be wed as Ozai's 11th wife, Azula announces his death, and Zuko becomes king. (CON. INSIDE; no room for full summary here)
1. Invasion

Prisoner

**Summary**: AU. When their tribe is invaded, Katara is taken prisoner due to her special ability in exchange for the safety of her family. They take her to the prince and princess, who decide to bring her to their father. Just as she is to be wed as Ozai's 11th wife, Azula announces his death, and Zuko becomes king. He takes Katara as his first wife, and they live in content. That is, until Katara discovers the box of poison in Zuko's dresser and realizes that she had wedded a murderer.

**Rating**: T, for death.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters, only the plot. Although it would be nice to the characters, so if you're looking for a good birthday gift...*wink wink*

Chapter 1: Invasion

The day had started off normally. Katara woke up in her tent alone, as she usually did. Her father was off at war with the other men of the small village, and her older brother always rose at the crack of dawn. She could hear the crunching of snow outside, and knew that others were already up as well. In the distance, the sound of children shouting announced that Sokka had begun the daily training.

With a yawn, Katara heaved herself up. She fluidly moved her hands towards the basin across the room, and the crystal water obeyed her command. The young woman brought her hands to her face, and the cold water brushed lightly against her skin, cleaning it but leaving behind no moisture. Nightmares had plagued her the night before, leaving her feeling drained. She dreaded the coming day, but knew that she needed to set about her chores.

The children were shouting more loudly than usual. Katara guessed that Sokka, her older brother, had done or said something disagreeable. Sokka was sixteen, a year older than she, and was the oldest male in the village. He would have left with the others, but at the time he was too young, and their father had insisted that he stay behind and take care of the women and children. The young man protested, threw tantrums, pleaded, and tried to stow away on their warship, but nothing got past the chief and Sokka was left unceremoniously standing at the edge of the water, shouting himself hoarse. But he got over it.

As Katara pulled on her fur-lined boots, she scowled. The more she listened, the more she realized that it wasn't just the children shouting. And it sounded as though they were moving away. As though to answer her confusion, the flap of the tent was wrenched aside, revealing a panting Sokka, boomerang in hand.

"We're under attack!" he said. Sokka, before Katara could react, grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and pulled her out. Katara saw the other women, some with their young children in arms, running out into the icy tundra. Sokka pushed her in that direction, ordering her to run. She did, not bothering to look behind her.

She could hear the whoosh of flames as the soldiers who had appeared from seemingly nowhere lit their houses ablaze. Katara knew her brother was at her heels, deliberately staying at the back of the herd in case any of the raiders caught up. He was determined to protect them.

The women ahead screamed and changed direction. Children were screaming and crying, and Katara thought that maybe she was, too, but she was so scared she hardly knew up from down anyway. Sokka was probably the most level-headed of them, but he was the only one who was trained to fight, in any case.

But then they were surrounded. There were far more soldiers than any of them had originally thought, and if they hadn't been so frightened and confused they might have wondered why so many had been sent to take care of such a tiny, harmless village. They had nothing to offer, no leverage. So Sokka tried to fight, tried to find some kind of opening that would give his family some chance of survival.

It was all too easy for the soldiers to knock him down. Each of the red-clad soldiers stood with a sword in their hand. The tiny tribe was going to be slaughtered, Katara was sure. But Sokka's hard blue eyes showed no sign of despair or surrender. He fought his way to his feet again, but then he hesitated just before a killing blow. This gave the soldiers the split second they needed to throw him down again, and this time they pinned him. The pinning soldier raised his sword for the killing strike, the silver blade glinting in the sunlight.

Before Katara even realized she had moved, she had tackled the man to the snow. They both grunted on impact, and Sokka rolled to his feet.

"Katara!" he uttered.

The soldiers each grabbed a tribesmember, tearing terrified children away from their mothers, who screeched in despair. Sokka struggled more than anyone else, but he could not break free. The one Katara had brought down pushed himself to his feet, pulling her up by her hair.

"Let me go!" she cried instinctively. Her fingers scrabbled at his gloved hands (and vaguely she realized that she wasn't wearing hers, as she hadn't had time to grab them) and her feet kicked at his shins. He didn't seem affected.

"Listen," Sokka said loudly, drawing attention. He had given up the struggle, finally realizing that he would not be able to get free. "Let them go, and take me. They are women and children, completely harmless. They can do nothing to you. Please, just let them go."

"No," said the one holding Katara. She froze at his authoritative tone. He was obviously the leader. "We are going to kill all of you. It is a repercussion for the attack your fathers and husbands led on us. They are our prisoners, and when we bring back your heads we'll see just how strong they are then."

Sokka's eyes flashed, and he began his fighting anew.

One of the children was thrown face-first to the ground, and a boot crunched down on his back. He cried out for his mother, who was sobbing and trying to wrench herself free to save her child. The man raised his sword to behead him.

But as he swung the weapon, the hilt came free from his hands. In surprise, the soldier turned and gape at his sword, which was suspended in mid-air. But then he saw that the blade was encased in ice that had risen from the ground, leaving a thin crystal pillar.

"How did you do that?" asked a cold voice.

Katara lowered her hand, eyes tearful. Her mouth moved without prompting from her mind. "I will not tell you," she said in a shockingly clear voice. She stared into the black holes in the face mask of her captor, where his eyes would be. "I will not tell you anything until you let all of them go. You can take me, but leave them alone. If you hurt them, I swear you will never know anything."

"Katara, no!" Sokka growled. He received a winding punch to his gut, and he doubled over, wheezing.

The man holding Katara was silent and still, as though he were thinking. Then he raised his free hand. Every soldier released their prisoner, and the mothers were reunited with their kids. Without speaking, the commander began to drag Katara back in the direction that they had come, and the soldiers followed.

"Katara," Sokka gasped weakly. Despite the pain in his belly, he scrambled to his feet and staggered after them. "You can't take her!"

A soldier elbowed him in the side of his head, and Sokka fell unconscious. Katara turned and looked at her family fearfully as she dragged away, almost hoping that they would come after her. None of them did. The women watched her go solemnly, looking as scared as she felt. Yet they also seemed relieved, glad that they would survive. The village healer moved to help Sokka, who lay unmoving.

"Where are you taking me?" Katara tried to ask, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. No one seemed to hear her, and she didn't bother asking again. The lump in her throat was too thick and wouldn't be swallowed.

Their huge warship loomed up in the distance, almost obscured by the morning fog. That was how they had arrived undetected. The ramps had already been lowered, so they simply walked up it and went into the ship's belly, which was dark and hot. Furnaces and engines lined the walls of the wide room. That was likely what powered the ship.

Katara stumbled as the man holding her pushed her into another soldier, who caught her other arm. "Take her to the holding cells," said the leader simply. Then he disappeared down the hallway, and the rest of the soldiers and she went down another one. Soon enough, after passing identical door after door and making many turns, only she and her escort were walking. The other soldiers had dwindled away to other parts of the ship.

They reached a door that the soldier opened with a key that hung outside of it, then ungraciously shoved the girl inside. She yelped as she landed on her elbows, then hurriedly threw a glance over her shoulder to watch the man slam the door shut. Seconds later, the sound of a lock clicked firmly, and she was trapped.

The room was small and dark. A single lamp flickered lazily in the far corner, casting more shadows than light. There was a single, straw-stuffed mattress in one corner, but that was it. There was no window, no slot in the wall to promote any hope of communication. Katara shivered even though she was not cold. She crawled over to the mattress and sank down onto it, curling into the fetal position so that she could stare at the door. If anyone tried to surprise her, she would be ready.

Katara was scared, of course, but she held onto the hope that they would not hurt her. She would try to make deals to save herself, holding back as much information as she could at a time. She tried to think of ways that would make them think they needed her. Tears stung her eyes at the thought that they might kill her. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be a prisoner, either. But there had been no other way. At least her family would be okay. Sokka's smiling face brought her comfort for a moment, but then she imagined his despair when he woke to see that their village was in ruins and that his little sister was gone.

At that, Katara's tears finally ran, and she sniffled into her fists. Despite her terror and exhaustion, Katara did not drift off into sleep. Instead, when her eyes dried, she watched the door and waited.

It wasn't long until she heard footsteps. Katara sat up, pressing her back against the wall. Thoughts ran wild in her mind. Were they coming to kill her? Hurt her? Question her? Had they gone back and killed her family despite the deal? What if they were coming to-

The door was unlocked and opened swiftly, and a young man carrying an oil lamp entered. He was dressed quite richly, with deep red designs standing out against the darks of his clothing. His long black hair was pulled up into a bun from a golden hairpiece shone in the light. His amber eyes studied the huddled girl, and it took a moment for Katara to process the burn scar over his left eye.

Similarly to the way Katara noticed him, he took a moment to take in her appearance. Before his vision had been slightly obscured by the mask, but now he could see her plainly enough. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, and two small loops were beaded in front of her ears. Her blue eyes stood out against her dark skin, but further than her thick fur clothing concealed her body.

The man cleared his throat importantly. "You are now a prisoner," he stated.

Katara narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"When we arrive at the palace, you will be taken to my father," the young man continued. With a jolt, Katara realized that he was her age. He took her sudden jerk as a reaction to what he had said. "He is a kind enough man, if you do not anger him." Katara wondered if that was supposed to be some sort of reassurance.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Prince Zuko, son of Ozai."

Katara furrowed her brow. She had heard of him, of course.

"You will explain to my father your ability," Zuko continued. "From there we will decide what is to be done with you. For now, you will wait here until more adequate arrangements are made."

"Arrangements?"

"A room," Zuko said, almost impatiently. "You will be free to walk about the ship, under supervision. My sister will guard you as long as you do." Then his eyes hardened as he caught a flash of hope in her eyes. "There is no chance of escape. We are already out to sea, and there are guards throughout the entire ship. If you try, we will kill you."

Katara's shoulders slumped slightly, but it wasn't too noticeable underneath her coat. "How long will I be gone?"

"Forever."

With that, the prince turned on his heels and left the room, taking the lamp with him. A soldier who had been waiting shut and locked the door after Zuko's departure. Katara's shock was immediately displaced by despair, and she buried her face in her hands. Her sobs echoed across the walls, unheeded. Several hours later, with an aching head, Katara closed her weary eyes and slept.

**A/N:** My first Avatar fic. Completely AU, though. There is no "bending" of the elements in this story, and no Aang, though if I write a sequel he will most likely appear. But in any case, he's not in this one.

Thanks for reading, and I will update as soon as I write the next chapter. :)


	2. Arrival

Chapter 2: Arrival

Katara scrunched her eyes against the sudden light that flooded the room. Footsteps resounded across the walls, and she forced herself to look at the visitor. It was a young woman, also her age, dressed in an outfit similar to Zuko's. Her hazel eyes had a hard glint in them, and her full lips were pulled up at the corners in a smirk. The oil lamp cast strange shadows across her face.

"Rise and shine," she said in a cheery voice.

Katara blinked and sat up, and when she looked at the newcomer's eyes again all she found was kindness. "Who are you?"

"Call me Azula," was the prompt reply. She put a hand on her hip and looked at the prisoner admonishingly. "So, you gonna stay in here and sleep in this nasty place or come out for a bath and breakfast?"

Katara hesitated.

"Oh, come on," Azula said. She moved forward and extended a hand, which Katara took gingerly in her own. Azula pulled her to her feet. "You must be melting. We'll get you some more appropriate clothes. Katara, right?"

Katara frowned. Something felt off, but she couldn't quite put her fingers on it. "Where are we?"

"Out at sea. We should be arriving back at the palace by sundown. We have the fastest mode of transportation available." Azula led her out of the room and down the hall, ignoring the guard at the door. Katara cast him a wary glance as they passed, and had to almost jog to keep up with the friendly girl.

They walked down a few more corridors. At first Katara tried to keep track of which way they went, trying to mentally map out the place. But by about the tenth turn she was thoroughly lost, and had given up. She nearly rammed into Azula as she stopped at an unmarked door.

"Here's the washroom," she announced, pushing the steel slab open. Steam billowed out lazily, and they entered.

Once Katara was inside, Azula closed the door behind them. The room was quite large and filled with several tubs, though there were no curtains or walls separating them. Various bottles and scrubbies lined the edges of the tubs, along with a large collection of differently colored soaps. It was a little overwhelming, to say the least.

"All right?" asked Azula.

Katara turned to her to reply, but recoiled in shock as she saw that she was undressing. Blushing furiously, the tribal girl averted her gaze and stammered incoherently.

"Sorry," Azula said, pausing. "Are you used to bathing alone?"

"No," Katara said truthfully. The only thing that really threw her off was that Azula was a stranger. And her skin was so pale, it looked unhealthy, though Katara knew that it was just her normal skin tone. After a moment, she began to peel off her clothes as well, and Azula finished removing her own garments.

Azula led the way to the tubs and stepped into hers, while Katara took the one beside her. The water was pleasantly warm, and Katara realized that she wouldn't mind a soak. She stole a glance at Azula, who was still settling. The heat from the water had already brought a pink blush to the girl's flawless skin. Katara felt a tiny sting of jealousy at her cold beauty.

"So," Azula said, folding her arms on the edge of the tub and resting her chin on them. She looked at Katara with playful eyes. "Met my brother?"

"Your brother?" she repeated, furrowing her brow.

"Zu-zu?" Azula chuckled. "Rude, a bit short for his age, looks like he fell face-first into a fire?"

"Prince Zuko," Katara breathed. Then she gasped and looked at Azula. That was why her name was so familiar to her! "You're Princess Azula."

"Yep!" Azula pushed herself away from the tub's edge and slinked over to the table that held the array of bathing materials. "Do you think I should smell like lavender or roses?"

Katara's mind went blank. "I, I don't know, your highness."

"It's Azula," she replied, chipper tone gone.

Though Katara could only see part of her face, it looked as though it had fallen into an angry expression. But when Azula picked up two bottles and turned to face her, she was smiling again.

"Rose or lavender?" she repeated.

"I like lavender," Katara offered quietly, blood roaring in her ears.

Azula nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged and placed the pink bottle back. She squirted a healthy amount of purple-tinged gel into her palm. "Go ahead and wash," Azula said, glancing at the frozen Katara from the corner of her eye. "Whatever flavor you like."

Katara's eyes strayed to her table, which had the same selection as Azula's. She wasn't sure what half of it was, but for the pink and purple: rose and lavender. There was also an orange bottle, a red, a green, a blue, a yellow, a black, a pearl, a clear, and brown. She decided to smell each of them. As long as she was here, she could smell as nicely as she wanted. She didn't recognize half of the smells, but thought most of them must have been fruit. They smelled sweet. Eventually, Katara chose the brown. She recognized the smell as coffee, though it had been years since her tribe had last gotten any.

Azula appeared to be amused by her choice. "Zu-zu loves the smell of coffee," she said with a wink. Katara was taken aback. What was she supposed to say in return? But fortunately, Azula did not seem to expect any reply, and resumed bathing.

The princess finished before Katara, but waited patiently. Once Katara had rinsed her hair clean, she spoke. "We shouldn't stay in here for too long. The steam might get to our heads."

Katara nodded dumbly, and stood with Azula to leave. To her immense surprise, clean clothes had been laid out for them. She hadn't even heard the door, and she blushed, hoping no one had seen her naked body. Azula dressed and then helped Katara with the strange fabrics. She was unfamiliar with the way they tied from the back, and how form-fitting they were.

"Looks good on you," Azula said lightly, patting her on the shoulder.

Katara didn't reply. She cast a longing look where she had left her own clothes, but they were gone. She hoped that they were being washed, not thrown away. Azula didn't notice.

"You must be hungry," Azula said as they walked out of the washroom. The cooler air of the hallway hit Katara and made goosebumps rise on her skin. "What do you like to eat?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. Back at the village, they had relatively little variety when it came to food. Trade ships were few and far between, and since the ground was frozen all year round they could grow no sustenance. Mostly they all lived off of seal and fish, most of which were procured by Sokka, the lone hunter. As she thought of him, tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Katara missed him most of all.

Azula glanced back, but noticing her distress kept quiet. They walked endless halls, and Katara felt suffocated by the sheer size of the place. Actually, for all she knew, they could have been walking in circles. She had given up trying to remember her way around. And if Zuko's and Azula's words were anything to go by, she wouldn't need to know, since she would not be left alone and they would be arriving by the end of the day.

Eventually the girls reached a door at the end of a corridor, and when Azula swung it open Katara was met with a cool, salty breeze and a wall of light. It took her sensitive eyes a moment to adjust. When they did she followed the princess out onto the deck. She could hear the calm waves lapping against the side of the huge metal ship, and the sky was clear blue, not a cloud in sight. In fact, the only things in sight were the sky and sea. Katara felt more homesick than ever.

"We'll eat out here since it's so nice," Azula was saying, making her way toward the lone table near the bow of the boat.

Katara followed hesitantly, eyes still searching the horizon for anything familiar.

"Hello, Zu-zu," she sang, taking a seat beside Zuko, who was glaring out at the sea while sipping on a cup of tea.

The tribal girl was snapped out of her wistful reverie and looked at the prince. She had just noticed him, which greatly surprised her considering she had been looking around. But Zuko did not acknowledge either of them, even when Azula was chatting to him. They both took a seat, Katara on the opposite side of Azula. Needless to say she was angry, if not a little fearful, of Zuko. He had absolute authority as long as they were out here. She shuddered to think of his father.

"Help yourself, Katara," Azula said, grasping the girl's attention. She motioned towards the table, where a feast was laid out. Well, a feast in Katara's eyes.

There were more colors than she had ever seen on food. There were fruits and vegetables, breads, meats, and cheeses, and a cup awaited its daily dose of tea from the steaming kettle at the center of the food. Katara's mouth watered, and her stomach decided it was finally time to announce her forgotten hunger.

She tentatively reached forward and gingerly raised a yellow, star-shaped fruit to her lips. A blast of flavor raced over her tongue. It was delicious! Katara was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to eat her fill, and set about doing just that. But she listened carefully to Azula and Zuko's conversation, even though she hardly understood it.

"So how do you like father's newest wife?" Azula asked coyly, hiding her smirk behind the rim of her cup.

Zuko snorted quietly. "I think nothing of her."

"Oh, sure you do, Zu-zu!"

"Oh, sure I don't, Azula," he muttered, setting his cup down. He reached for a block of cheese and took a thoughtful bite of it. Zuko's amber eyes never strayed from the ship's course.

"I think she's pretty," Azula commented primly. "Although I doubt she has much going on upstairs."

"Mm."

"Katara," Azula said brightly, turning to her. Katara froze, a strip of well-boiled meat halfway to her stuffed cheeks. "Are you married?"

Red bloomed across her cheeks, and she was vaguely aware that Zuko's head had turned slightly in her direction. Since she was unable to answer with such a full face, Katara simply shook her head no.

"Shame," Azula said, and she sounded sincere.

"You're not married, either," Zuko said pointedly, folding his arms across his chest.

Azula snorted much like Zuko had earlier. "I am a warrior first and a princess second. No suitor could handle me on my best day."

Katara quickly swallowed. "I am not married because the only man of age in my village is my brother."

The royal siblings turned to her. Azula nodded emphatically. "It's still too bad. You look as though you'd make a great housewife."

"Um, thank you?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "What are you up to, Azula?"

"Hm? Nothing, Zu-zu. A girl can't offer a compliment to another without having ulterior motives?"

"There's nothing wrong with that," Zuko shrugged, but then he narrowed his eyes at his sister. "But it is you, after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Azula placed a hand over her heart, feigning offense.

Zuko shook his head with another eye roll. They landed on Katara's expectant expression, but he quickly averted his gaze. "Well," he said, standing and stretching his arms over his head, "I must be getting on with my duties."

"Oh, take a break for once, will you?" Azula said, tossing a piece of bread at him.

He easily dodged it and walked away swiftly, shooting an unreadable expression at Azula over his shoulder. Azula only laughed, and Katara supposed that she had been able to read his look after all. Their sibling relationship ignited the longing in her heart once more, and it ached where she kept Sokka's memories and love.

Azula turned back to Katara with a calculating look. "What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"Of Zuko, I mean. Do you like him?"

Once more Katara's cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, he seems...princely?"

"Princely?" Azula repeated incredulously before throwing her head back in laughter. "Is that all?" She wiped a tear from her eye with a perfectly manicured finger.

Katara fiddled with the strap around her midsection and shrugged. The tips of her ears felt hot.

Azula leaned closer, propping her elbows on the table. She offered Katara a small smile, and it seemed genuine. "I've never told him this, but I'm always on the look-out for a good wife for him. He's always rejected them, though. I could never figure out why." Her eyes glazed over in some distant memory, but then she shook it away and met Katara's confused gaze. "The reason I ask if you like him is because I think he likes you. And if you both like each other, why not try it out, eh?"

The princess had to laugh once more at Katara's shocked reaction.

"But," Katara sputtered, standing with such force that she knocked her chair back, "he's the prince!"

"So?"

"So, he can't," Katara took a breath. "I'm not even of his people."

"Right," Azula said contritely, as though she had just realized this. "Perhaps he could take you as a concubine."

Katara felt her throat close up. Though from what emotion, she could not tell. Perhaps an extreme case of embarrassment, or fear, or even jealousy. But in any case, she suppressed the feeling. There was no way a prince could like someone like her, even though in a way she was a princess as well. Her father was the chief of the village, but not a king. So maybe that didn't make her anything special. She didn't know.

Azula let the conversation go. "Well," she said, "we can either stay out here in the fresh air or go back to our room and sit in the candlelight. Which would you prefer?"

Katara gave her a curious look. The princess had asked what she would like to do, yet again. It was very confusing behavior. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. Katara didn't really want to do either. She wanted to turn the ship around and go home, and pretend none of this had ever happened. It hardly felt real. She hardly remembered why she had been taken in the first place, though she thought that if she tried hard enough she would remember. But she didn't want to remember.

"How about we stay out here?" Azula suggested. "It is rather nice today. I always feel so stuffy inside."

Katara nodded and righted her chair before sitting again. Her eyes wandered around the seascape, looking for some form of comfort. But they found none. Not even the warm sun shining on her face and reflecting across the water helped. The girls sat in silence for several hours. Neither seemed to mind, as they were both caught up in their own musings.

"There it is," Azula said suddenly, jolting Katara. Azula pointed out into the distance, and when she looked, Katara saw a tall, beautiful building looming up from the fog. It was bigger than anything she'd ever seen. All she could do was stare in awe.

"We've arrived," said a voice behind them.

Katara tore her eyes from the sight and saw that Zuko had come out.

"You don't say?" Azula sneered sarcastically.

He ignored her and continued to watch their approach, which Katara felt was dreadfully slow. Her stomach was in knots, and her head was so light that for a ridiculous moment she was sure it would float away.

She could only imagine how the king would see her. Would he hate her? Punish her for her family's attack against them? Now that Katara saw the place, she cursed the foolhardy decision to ever launch such a plan. There was no way they could win! The king would probably have her locked up forever, never to see the light of day again. Or would he just kill her? That seemed likely. Ozai was a ruthless man.

Katara didn't realize that she had been shaking until Azula placed a calming hand on her shoulder. She looked at the girl and nodded curtly, but gratefully. Azula smiled softly. "It'll be fine," she assured her before turning away and lowering her hand.

Katara nodded again, but all she could think of was her impending doom.

**A/N:** Finally, an update! ^-^ Wow.

Usually I have something to say here, but nothing really this time. Thanks for reading! I'll update the next chapter as soon as I write it. :)


	3. Lord Ozai

Chapter 3: Lord Ozai

**A/N:** There's been a lot of confusion thus far, so I'm going to try my best to clear it up before continuing. Yes, Zuko does have a scar, and it will be revealed later how he got it. No, there is no bending in this universe. Katara is the only one able to bend water (and any form of it) to her will, and the reason for that will also be revealed. Sorry for the confusion. Onwards~

The palace was huge. The staggering height of the sloping roofs of the building itself was enough to make Katara queasy. She could just imagine herself falling to her death, and it scared her to think of it. She was distracted by the small shuddering underneath her feet as the ship docked and its ramp lowered onto the sand. A half-idea formed in her mind that she could ride away on the waves, all the way back home, and none of them would be able to catch her. She could disappear quickly. But Katara abandoned the idea almost immediately. They would know where she was going, of course. They would retrieve her, and this time they would surely kill them all.

So she followed compliantly down the ramp, hands clasped in front of her torso to stop herself from wringing them fretfully. Zuko and Azula flanked her on either side, though both were slightly ahead of her to lead the way. In front of them and behind them were all the other soldiers, lined up in a precise fashion that spoke of years of training. She couldn't help but to be impressed by their unity.

The journey to the palace was longer than she expected. Due to its immensity, it appeared closer than it was. The dread in her belly grew heavier the nearer they came to it. The palace, though beautiful, was almost menacing. For the first time, Katara felt truly hopeless. She would never see her family or friends again, she was sure.

Katara resisted the urge to cry. She would be strong, had to be. If she gave up, then she would be sealing her fate. All she had to do was wait for the right moment to escape. It would be easy enough, she thought. Once they decided that she would not, they would let her wander around on her own. If she could slip past all of the guards, then she could snatch a boat and sail back the way they had come.

That is, if she wasn't put to death. If she wasn't thrown in prison. If she was ever allowed to roam on her own. If, if, if.

Katara hardly noticed when they passed the threshold of the humungous doors, which the doorkeepers promptly closed behind them. It was when they were suddenly plunged into shadows that she snapped out of her reverie and looked around, quite startled.

The reception chamber in which they were was lit by torchlight, casting flickering forms across the walls. It was foreboding, to say the least. Katara suppressed a shudder and followed her captors through another pair of doors, which were much smaller than the entrance but no less ornate. The long corridor that was revealed was also lit by torchlight, and long tapestries with the nation's symbol embroidered upon them hung from the wall. As far as Katara could tell, the symbol was that of a fire, the flames tapering off to a deadly point.

Another pair of doors. The hallway split off to the left and the right, torches placed strategically along the lengths of them. In front of them was yet another double door, which was opened for them. However, only Zuko, Azula, and she entered. The soldiers saluted and marched off down the hallways, and the door guards shut them inside the large chamber.

Katara looked around. It was obviously a throne room. A red carpet stretched from about halfway into the room to the throne, climbing the three steps to the raised floor on which the royal chairs were. On either side of the carpet candles illuminated the path, though Katara could see no reason why as the windows at the far end of the room allowed plenty of light. It also allowed the chairs to be silhouetted so that she could not see the face of the man who sat in it, or the woman beside him.

Zuko and Azula moved forward, and Katara almost forgot to follow them. She quickly stumbled after them so she would not be left standing alone. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she was sure she would be sick. It was hot and stuffy, she wished someone would open one of those windows. Just one would do, she thought. How could anyone stand it in there?

But all too suddenly they were standing at the steps. Katara caught herself staring intently at the shadowed figure and forced herself to lower her eyes. If she appeared weak and deferent, surely the king would accept her.

"What do you bring me?" asked a hard, bored voice.

The coldness in his tone chilled Katara's blood.

"Father," said Azula in a honeyed voice, "this is Katara. She's from that water tribe down south."

"Oh?"

Zuko stepped forward slightly. "This girl has strange powers."

"Strange powers?" the king repeated. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly. "Show me."

Katara balked, looking to Zuko and then Azula for help. They only nodded imperceptibly to her.

"I-I," she stuttered, wringing her hands."

"Well?" said the king impatiently.

"I can't without water..."

"Hm. Bring her water, then," said Ozai, sitting up straight.

A guard Katara had not noticed on her first cursory look around the room went off to retrieve it. They waited in silence, which it seemed Katara was the only one uncomfortable. She was almost grateful when the guard returned with a small cup of water, and she took and it placed it at her feet before taking two steps back.

Zuko and Azula edged to the sides as Katara closed her eyes in focus and brought her hands before her. When she raised one arm over her head, the water in the cup followed, the pure liquid shining like diamond. The witnesses in the room collectively breathed in, watching with awe. Katara swept her other arm to one side, and the water created a wide arc, glittering as it coursed through the air. After a moment, Katara felt her concentration waning and she returned the water carefully to its cup, lowering her arms to her side.

When it was clear that she would do no more, Ozai sat forward in his throne once more. "Amazing," he said, apparently impressed.

Katara kept her gaze resolutely on the cup.

"What is your name, girl?" Ozai asked.

"Katara."

"Katara," the king repeated, as though tasting it. "And how is it that you came to wield such power, Katara?"

She was silent for a long moment. Just as Azula was going to nudge her with a whisper, Katara stood straight, pushing her shoulders back and leveling her gaze with where she thought the king's were. "When I was young," she began in a voice that betrayed no fear, "I often went for walks out on the tundra. This was before my father and the other men set out for the war.

"It so happened that one day on my walk, a snowstorm struck, and I was forced into a nearby icy cavern to wait it out. But I was not the only one hiding there. An old man, whom I had never seen before, was there. He was very weak, and could hardly move, let alone speak.

"I helped him. I always took a light snack and some water on my escapades. I gave it to him. Once he had finished eating and drinking his fill, he spoke to me.

"He told me that I was destined for great things. That I would bear many burdens, but also many joys. He said that my kindness would not go unrewarded, and that he bestowed his blessings on me. The old man touched his lips to my forehead, and when he stepped back, he was young and strong. But then I blinked, and he had disappeared.

"I thought I had imagined the entire ordeal. That I was hypothermic or disorientated in the blizzard. I wished that the storm would stop so that I could go home-and it did. The snowstorm stopped, as though it were obeying my commands.

"But I pushed it off to sheer luck, or strange weather patterns. I left the cave and returned home immediately. My family would be worried about me. On the way I grew thirsty, but I had no water left. I wished that some of the ice would melt so that I might drink, but I knew it wouldn't happen. Only, it did, and I was able to fill my flask.

"Over the next few days I experimented with the water. I could freeze water, melt ice, and manipulate precipitation. I could control the currents, and shape both liquid and solid to my whim. It came with ease. I showed my family and told them about the old man. It was a great blessing, indeed.

"And that's how my power came to be," Katara finished at last.

The court regarded her silently for a long, palpable moment.

Then Ozai asked, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Katara answered immediately, though she was rather taken aback. She had expected questions regarding her capabilities, or even something to do with her family or home.

"Perfect," Ozai said, clapping his hands once.

Katara's brow furrowed slightly, and she raised her eyes questioningly.

"Tell my bride that I have no need for her," Ozai said in a dismissive tone. "Katara shall wed me in her place, as my eleventh wife."

The ground suddenly tilted underneath Katara's feet, but she somehow managed to stay standing. She was utterly speechless, shocked, dizzied.

Even Azula and Zuko looked at their father with wide eyes. A quick glance towards each other spoke entire conversations, but Katara could not bring herself to attempt to decipher them. She would be wedding a king. An enemy, but the most powerful enemy in the world.

Ozai began to speak again, but his words were lost in a swirling vortex of blackness, and, unable to draw breath into her screaming lungs, Katara fell to the floor and knew no more.

* * *

><p>Katara woke in a strange room, enveloped in the warmth of heavy blankets and a huge soft bed. The curtains were closed, blocking the daylight from the girl's overwhelmed eyes, which traveled across the room. The ever-present tapestries with the nation's crest hung from the walls, and a large, ornate dresser was pushed against the far wall. A chair was at the bedside, and on it was folded clothes. It was then that Katara realized she was in nightclothes. Someone had undressed her.<p>

Rather than getting up lest the noise inform someone that she was awake, Katara lay where she was and began to devise an escape plan. There was no way she could marry the appalling king. She'd rather die trying to swim back home.

Katara wondered whether she could go out of the window, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She had no idea how high up she was. Another was to sneak out in the dead of night, but there was no doubt that there would be guards present. Perhaps she could knock them out? With what? A water pitcher was lying on the dresser. It looked as though it were made of metal. But that would mean nothing if Katara did not have the strength to deliver a hard blow. Not to mention if there was more than one guard, she would not be able to hit every target.

Miserable tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was tired of being weak. Katara would, if not to anyone else, prove to herself that she was strong. She would escape. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the next day, or not even then. But one day she would, even if it killed her.

Katara pressed her knuckles into her eyes to rub away the wetness, taking a deep, shaky breath. Then she kicked off the covers and rolled off the bed. With a quick glance around to make sure that she really was alone, she dressed in the clothes that were waiting for her. They were same that she was wearing earlier, but she didn't mind at all.

Then she looked around, at a loss for what to do. Should she wait for someone to come fetch her or go out on her own? Knock on the door? Open the curtains? Call?

After a few anxious moments, Katara took a seat on the chair, turning it so that she faced the door. Surely they didn't expect her to sleep all day? Unless she already had and it was now the next day. But she didn't think that was the case.

Katara didn't have to wait long, as the door glided open. She stood, wondering who had come to fetch her.

"Oh!" gasped the young woman who had entered, pressing a hand over her chest. "My lady," she sighed, "I didn't realize you were awake."

Katara looked perturbed. "Lady?" she repeated.

The young woman nodded and strolled into the room, crossing to the curtains. She flung them open, and Katara barely had time to shield her eyes from the onslaught of light. It was then that Katara realized that she had indeed slept through the night, as it was morning.

"A busy day, my lady," the maid said, turning to Katara. She was dressed in a red tunic and capris, and pair of brown shoes covered her small feet. The brunette's hair was piled into a neat bun atop her head. And was that pity in her eyes?

"Busy day?" Katara asked, furrowing her brow.

"Yes, it is your wedding, after all, my lady."

The room was suddenly plunged into icy water. "What?" Katara asked faintly, the water roaring in her ears.

The servant looked apologetic. "Yes, my lady. You need to be fitted, dressed, and prepared. Later in the evening, you will be taken to Lord Ozai for your vows."

Katara sank back into the chair, feeling more miserable than ever. She knew that she would be wedded to the king, but never had she expected it to be so...immediate. It was crushing, to say the least.

Despite her patient and sympathetic look, the maid came forward and put a tentative, comforting hand on Katara's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my lady, but we must leave now if we are to be ready in time."

Katara nodded and stood, her earlier resolve to be strong resonating throughout her being. She could do it, she knew she could. She would just wait for the right moment to escape. All she could do now was be compliant, wait, and hope.

"What's your name?" Katara asked as she once more found herself led down endless passages and turns.

"Haya," came the prompt, amiable reply.

"Haya," Katara repeated.

No more conversation was made as they walked. Haya brought Katara to a room where a tub and several washmaids awaited. They bathed her body quickly but gently, and Katara might have been soothed and relaxed had she not been so horrified at what would happen later. Would Ozai expect to have her in his bed? She nearly fainted again at the thought, but remained diligently awake.

After she had been dried with the softest towels she had ever felt, Katara was made to stand on a stool in her slip as her body was measured. A red robe was pulled over her shoulders and tied, and over that a multitude of pretty ornaments, sashes, and belts. It felt unnaturally heavy and awkward, though Katara was assured that it was perfectly normal to feel that way. And it was the only time Katara would ever be expected to wear the clothes.

Once the maids were satisfied with the wedding robes, they sat her on the stool and set about doing her hair and make up. Katara had never worn face paint before, and she found it rather strange. It took all she had not to pull away from their ticklish brushes and fingers. Her hair was tugged up and teased, then brushed and pull again. With no mirror, Katara could only guess at what they were doing. She hoped she still was recognizable as herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Haya brought a handheld mirror and held it so that Katara could see. Her complexion was much lighter than before, and her lips a deep cherry red. Her eyelids were lightly dusted with a fine red powder, bringing out her blue eyes. Pink rouged her cheeks, accentuating her cheekbones. Her hair had been piled onto her head almost messily, but there was an order to the style. Thin ringlets hung down on either side of her face, framing it. All in all, Katara looked beautiful. But it was unsettling to her.

Haya motioned for her to follow her again, and Katara stood. The heavy robes made it hard for her walk, and she found herself having to take smaller but quicker steps to keep up with the servant. She wondered how much time had passed already. Not enough, that was for sure.

"Here is where you'll learn what you need to do during the ceremony," Haya explained as they reached a door. She opened it and ushered Katara inside, where two very old, very mischievous women were waiting.

"Please," said the one on the left as both women, who were obviously twins, motioned to the cushion in front of them.

"Sit," finished the other.

Katara reluctantly did, pulling up the robes a bit before kneeling. Suddenly she thought of how hungry she was. The last time she had eaten had been on the ship.

Before either of the old women could speak again, however, the doors to the room burst open with an almost impossibly loud bang. Katara wheeled around in surprise to see Azula and Zuko, both panting and wide-eyed.

"What is it?" cried the elder twins, seeing their expressions.

"Father, he's-" Zuko choked out.

"Dead," Azula finished.

Katara couldn't bring herself to despise the dizzying feeling of relief the news brought. The elder twins leapt to their feet, and rather quickly for old people, rushed off. Zuko spun on his heel and led the way, leaving Azula with Katara. The princess watched them disappear down the hallway before turning to Katara.

"Seems you're not marrying today," she said breathlessly.

Katara nodded, unsure what to say.

Azula, however, didn't seem to expect a reply, and turned away, raising a hand to cover her mouth. For a moment, Katara could have sworn she saw a smirk on those lips.

**A/N:** Gah, I finally got this out. -.- It's so ridiculously busy lately, and I have like, no motivation. But fear not, I will finish this story if it kills me.

Thanks for all the reads and reviews and follows so far, it means a lot. I'll update when I write the next chapter. :)


	4. Lord Zuko

Chapter 4: Lord Zuko

Katara was standing outside of the throne room with several guards. She hadn't been allowed inside, but she also hadn't been left alone, either. Ozai had apparently died in the throne room, and though it was unclear just what had happened yet, they suspected poison. Katara shuddered at the thought. It was a horrible way to go.

Zuko, Azula, and the elderly twins were inside. Every few minutes, a heavy sob echoed faintly through the door. Katara knew it was Azula who was crying, since she doubted Zuko could sound so feminine even while crying, and the old women seemed much to professional to lose control of their emotions. She winced with each heartbroken sound. Poor Azula.

And yet Katara felt hope now that the king was dead. Now she no longer had to wed, and her escape would be made much more easier. Maybe on the night of the funeral, Katara would be able to sneak away. Everyone would be distracted, she was sure.

Katara's attention snapped to the door as it opened. Azula's wails, unobstructed by the barrier, became louder and more with abandon. As the elderly twins exited, Katara peeked inside, against her better judgment, and saw Lord Ozai lying on an alter that must have been brought in. His hands were folded over his chest as though he were sleeping, crown placed in between his fingers. His body was covered with his red cloak.

Zuko stood on the other side of the altar, looking down on his father. His face was decidedly blank, the exact opposite of how he'd appeared when Katara was being readied for the wedding. Azula, however, had thrown herself on top of Ozai, burying her face into his stomach. Her fists clutched at his clothes, and she hung from him as though her legs would no longer support her.

The doors were closed, and Katara saw no more of them. Her heart clenched in pity for Azula, mostly. She remembered how she'd felt when her mother had died.

Vaguely, Katara wondered where Ozai's wives were. Shouldn't they be present for the mourning? Or were they, like she, merely prisoners? Perhaps that was the sort of man Ozai was. Taking women far away from their homes to wed them. Maybe the other women were unique, like she was, and he liked them for that. But Katara shook her head. All this thinking was making her dizzy, especially in light of the fact that she had yet to eat. Not that she had any appetite.

For a long while they just stood there. The guards never moved an inch, while Katara shifted her weight constantly from foot to foot, then paced a bit, then stretched. She rubbed her eyes when she felt herself falling asleep on her feet. When the guards continued to ignore her, she crouched to the floor and sat back on her haunches. Katara adjusted her ceremonial robes, trying to make them a bit more comfortable. Finally, she plopped down onto the cold marble floor, no longer caring. She was tired, and miserable, and thirsty. And bored, actually.

Katara had to bite back a sudden bark of laughter. Bored? Bored! Katara, the prisoner, thousands of miles from home, was bored. Sokka would laugh at her. If it had been him in her place, he'd probably have already escaped and been halfway back home by now in a make-shift canoe, using one of the severed arms of his enemies as a paddle. Sokka wouldn't be sitting around waiting. That thought brought a flash of hope through her, making her body rigid.

Sokka would not be sitting around waiting. He would probably be searching for her, or crossing the sea to reach her. But just as she thought it, she shoved the thought aside. Sokka, no matter how devastated he was, would stay in the south pole. The villagers needed him. They were his responsibility. As was Katara, and she knew that he would blame himself. Poor Sokka, Katara thought, and the unwanted tears spilled forth again.

She swiftly dabbed them away with her sleeve, then balked at the sight of the makeup that stained them. She'd forgotten about the makeup. But then, a sort of grim satisfaction filled her that the robes were ruined. Now she wouldn't ever have to wear them.

Katara's stomach growled suddenly. With a sharp intake of breath, Katara pressed her hand against her belly. When a guard turned to look down at her, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks, though she didn't know why. His hand disappeared into one of his pockets as he stepped toward her. Katara froze in alarm, not daring to raise her eyes to his face.

"Here," said a soft voice. The hand came out with a small bag, extending it to her. "It's not much, but we can't leave this spot."

Katara cautiously took it, finally looking up at the guard. His helmet obscured his eyes, but his mouth wasn't turned down in a frown, nor was it smirking mockingly. She opened it and found it was filled with, of all things, hard candy. She tried to hand it back, blushing furiously at his kindness, but he had already turned around again. There was no sign that he had even moved.

She scowled down at the candy, then suddenly remembered her manners. "Thank you!" she blurted, louder than she had meant to. Her voice echoed down the hallway, and she slapped a hand over her lips. A miniscule nod from the guard's head that she might have missed had she not been looking at him was her only acknowledgment.

Katara smiled and picked out a candy. It was in the shape of a star, but it was bright blue. She sniffed it quietly, wondering how it would taste. The only smell she got was a sugary one. She popped it into her mouth, vaguely aware that perhaps she should be a bit mistrusting. But the candy was sweet, and good, and her mouth watered hungrily around it. She sucked on it until it had all but dissolved, then ate another, and then another, until she realized that the bag was empty. She was still hungry, but not enough that her stomach complained. Katara neatly folded the bag and held onto it, wondering whether the guard would want it back.

The girl had no idea how long it had been since they had been brought there that morning. For all she knew, it could have been night-it certainly felt like it. And still Azala and Zuko were mourning their father. Azula, thankfully, had long since stopped crying. Katara supposed that her brother had finally comforted her, or she had run out of tears.

It was selfish of her, Katara knew, but she wished Haya would come back for her and take her to her room. At this point, all she wanted was to sleep. It had been a long, hard day for her, what with the agonizing pressure of marrying the now dead (supposedly poisoned!) king.

She wondered if the king would be missed by his subjects. His family, surely, yes. Who could, even if they didn't like each other, not miss their family? Katara missed hers terribly. But everyone in her family had never been anything but kind to her. King Ozai, as far as she had heard, was a tyrant. And, obviously, he enjoyed having control. Just the fact that he had ten wives, and was going for eleven, showed that.

**A/N:**

I am so, so, so, so, so very sorry. This story is on hiatus until further notice. Not only do I have very little time, I have lost motivation to write this. . I can't tell you how sorry I am, but this is the way it is. I have no doubt that one I might return to this story, but I can't bring myself to keep writing it when I have no heart in it. It would be unfair of me to do that because the story would come out even more lacking than it already is.

But I'm not going to leave you hanging. I will post the rest of the plot in a next chapter. If you've already lost interest, I don't blame you, so you can just skip it and complain about what a waste of time this was.

Again, my sincerest apologies, and thanks for reading so far.


	5. Plot and Apology

Zuko is crowned king. He orders the conquering to stop and sends peace treaties to be signed by the neighboring countries. He also marries the Katara (for a reason I was going to come up with later).

She spends much of her time in the garden, since Zuko allows her to wander around, and decides one day to surprise her husband in his room. Since he wasn't there, she wants to leave a beautiful rose in his drawer, but she instead finds a box of poison-supposedly what had killed Ozai.

Katara confronts him, and he denies any knowledge of it. She runs out to her garden, upset that Zuko, who had proven himself to be kind and just, is a killer. After she calms herself, she goes back to beg him to repent, only to find him in a pool of his own blood, dead.

Azula assumes the throne and declares war in the neighboring countries, despite the fact that Zuko had made peace. Katara is completely heartbroken and depressed, and spends much of her days in bed. Once, she gets up the strength to walk about the palace and finds herself at the conference room. The queen Azula stands at the far wall, admiring the map of the world with red x's over the countries she controlled.

Katara suddenly realizes Azula's wickedness and makes quick plans to escape. That night, she leaves and finds a merchant willing to take her to the south pole, back to her home. She has been gone for several years by this time, but she is recognized immediately upon her return. Sokka is overjoyed, and it's a happy reunion. Katara tells him everything that has happened.

By this time, Katara notices that there is a boy she's never seen before. His name is Aang, and he too has strange powers (and amnesia). They become quick friends, and spend a lot of time together. Eventually, Aang's memories return to him, and he remembers that he is supposedly destined to dethrone Azula. So he sets out to do that, and Katara follows. Sokka follows her.

This begins a journey throughout the kingdom to spread rebellion, though it does little good. The group reaches the palace where Katara for a long while, and Aang challenges Azula. She surprises everyone when she shows that she had a few tricks of her own: she could control fire. She'd made a deal with a fire god.

Aang and Azula square off. Whoever won would win the crown. When it looks as though Azula is going to win, Katara finally steps in to help, despite Aang and Sokka's orders not to. Azula is crazed with power, making her unpredictable. As Katara and Aang combine their forces, Azula attacks Sokka, who had no time to dodge. Neither did Katara or Aang have time to help him.

But suddenly, Sokka is saved by none other than Zuko! Just as soon as he appears, though, he's gone again, making all who saw him wonder whether he was really there. While Azula is preoccupied in confusion and fear, Katara pulls that move she did in the final episode of Avatar, where she gets Azula standing over the grate and bends the water around both of them, effectively freezing them. She breathes out, filling the space around her with air bubbles so that she can move and subdue the helpless Azula.

They'd won.

Fluffy stuff, the end.

Again, sorry about giving up on this. Maybe someday I'll come back and write this, but now I just can't. If any of you want to take over it, just drop a comment or PM me, and I'll give my blessing! ^-^


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